Pieces Of Our Past
by AMPebbles
Summary: Albus and Scorpius aren't together anymore, so when Albus wakes up in his ex's bed they don't exactly have a civilised conversation. But this still doesn't stop them from remembering their past. Albus may not have a clear-cut good or bad view on things but he's sure Scorpius doesn't really care either way. Will that change when Scorpius sends a letter recalling their first date?


**Erm, hi. Its been a long, ****_long_**** time since I posted something and now I have this! Bloody hell, its long! Was not expecting that, sorry... Ah well, I'm quite enjoying playing with a new ship! Albus/Scorpius... Just like Harry/Draco but closer to canon.**

**Anyway, I'm thinking of making this multi-chapter (possibly about 10) but not just yet. Ruddy exams...**

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Spots of light dance on my eyelids, alerting me to the sun streaking through the blinds. I close my eyes tighter with full knowledge of how the skin around them crumples. Scorpius thought that it was cute back when we used to wake up together.

_You look as though you're fighting to the death with real life, _he would chuckle. _Every morning, it's like you'll do anything to stay in those perfect dreams. I hope I'm involved in some way, Albus._

Just his voice would summon me from my slumber, and I'd want to steal another look at him. He'd always be leaning over me, smiling when I awoke, his face the first thing I saw each day. After kissing him, my reply was always, _Of course you are. And just like everything else you're involved in, you quickly become the centre of attention. You can't function otherwise._

Then we'd fight.

Play fight, that is, with pillows and gentle hands. Not like the fight that now finds me here, waking up alone, wallowing in blissful memories. The fight of vicious words, daggers that have left so many scars.

Its now, when my mind is filled with bittersweet thoughts, that I want to escape the usually soft grip of sleep. One of my hands roughly brushes over my face while my other arm stretches out… and is grabbed by someone, their cool fingers curling around my wrist.

Instantly, my eyes flash open, wide. At first my vision is blurry, all I can see is the white down of the sheets, and the rest of the world blocked out by a smudgy form. As my eyes begin to adjust, I can make out who it is. Pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes – someone lying on their side, propped up on his elbow. There's only one person that it can possibly be.

_Scorpius? _I want to scream out. Ask him if it's a dream, and, if it isn't, ask him why he's decided to fuck with my mind. Hasn't he ruined me enough already? Yet I can't trust myself to speak, and it's he who breaks the silence.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead. How are you today?" he grins that grin, the one he knows I can't help but fall for. So I avert my eyes, scanning the rest of his body. The toned planes of his bare chest are visible, his lower half covered by the duvet. Nostalgia hits me, pounding me with a wave for each memory of a time I've seen him like this, but I wonder if he gets the same feeling. He mustn't. He can't. If he did, if our past really held any piece of his heart, he wouldn't mess me about the way he does.

There's no way I'm answering his question. He doesn't care about me anymore. "What am I doing here, Scorpius?" I ask sourly.

I'm blessed with a snort in reply. "If you think I brought you here against your will, confunded, imperiused or drugged you, then I'm deeply hurt. Well, saying that…"

"Be serious. What am I doing here?" Rule one for dealing with a Malfoy: don't give away any emotion, give it to them hard and cold, if you can help it. I didn't learn that the easy way, but it's even harder now with the optimist in me hoping this means I still have a chance, but the majority of my mind saying it's a twisted joke. I manage to withhold any expression from my face.

With a sigh, he slides his legs over the edge of the bed, the sheets falling off his body.

_Shit. He's naked, _is all that crosses my mind. I lift my part of the duvet to check how clothed I am, but don't like the results. _Double shit. _Quickly, I begin scrabbling around on the floor next to me until I grab an item to cover myself up with. Thankfully, its underwear that I grasp in my clammy hands.

Being the confident and cocky prat he is, Scorpius doesn't think twice as he saunters across to the other side of the room (_his _room, meaning I must have travelled somehow but don't remember) to retrieve a pair of boxers from a drawer. As he slips them on, he simply states, "I was bored."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Let me get this straight," – he scoffs as he always does at my chosen phrase, something about irony that he finds humorous – "You had time to kill so decided to invite your ex to your place?"

"I rather think that the term 'fuck-buddy' would be more appropriate in this situation, don't you agree?"

Whether this question is rhetorical or not, I don't grace it with an answer, instead deciding to stare at him and pull on my own pants (rather awkwardly as I try to remain under the covers) while he saunters around his tiny apartment. It's surprising, really, the place where Scor decided to live. As soon as we left Hogwarts, Mr Malfoy gave his son an arse load of money to "purchase a nice, respectable abode in which to reside – preferably in the company of Wizard kind." Perhaps that's why the small but presentable flat right in the heart of Muggle London was deemed perfect by the youngest Malfoy, he does have a rebellious streak. Most of the place is one simple room that manages to squeeze in a kitchen, living area and double bed. Somehow, the flat often feels just right, cosy, probably because of the excessive use of white furniture and natural light. Normally space isn't a problem, but things are a lot different when you face an awkward and possibly problematic situation with your ex (notice the avoidance of 'fuck-buddy'?) making me a caged animal.

And an angry one at that.

"You can't do that to me." My voice is quiet and low, a growl. From under my eyebrows, I glare at him, hope to show how angry I am. But he knows already, I can tell. He always knows, can always read me like a book. As though I'm not there, he carries on making himself some toast. Cut into little triangles, not squares. God help you if you cut his toast into squares!

Seriously. I was almost hexed once.

Breakfast in hand, he begins to walk back over to me and pouts. "Why not? I thought we were having fun. At least, _I _enjoyed myself. Thoroughly, in fact." By now he has reached me and climbs onto the bed. Not sat down like you would have expected, but pushing my body down into the pillows and leaning over me. He shoves a slice of toast into my mouth. "I thought that, maybe, you could stay a little longer, and, you know, we could have _more _fun."

My shaky laugh in reply is meant to sound assertive, filled with self control and the ability to stand up for myself, but it just makes me seem nervous. "I don't think so." Not so gently, I shove him off, throw the toast on the floor – butter side down 'cause I know that'll piss him off – and begin searching for my clothes. It's not long before I'm fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He still lies there, trying to look seductive. Somehow he manages it, even while eating breakfast. "If it hadn't escaped your notice, _we _are not meant to be doing this. We're not together anymore. It's over."

"I know it's over. _I _broke up with you. I'm fine."

There's no way for me to keep myself from staring blankly before my brain starts working again. Did he really just say that? "Right, it's _great _to know you have escaped any emotional turmoil after ending our three year relationship on a bad note."

"Yes, it hasn't exactly put me through torture. I do hope it's been the same for you."

I grab a pillow and lob it at him. Instantly I wish I hadn't because he appears to have seen this as flirting – maybe I should have grabbed a nearby chair instead… "You're unbelievable! Do you know that? Completely sodding _unbelievable_! These past four months have been a living hell. You don't give a shit about me, or us, or anything we meant. Do you know how much that hurts? Another thing, it's not just a boyfriend that I've been missing, but my best friend as well. I guess you haven't had that problem then, probably got _Aiden_ to run off to, or Declan, or…"

Before I know it, he's on his feet. The few inches he is taller than me seem huge as he glares down from close proximity. I can feel his breath on my face, the full force of his grey glare. "Right! Because you have no one, there isn't a doting family, James and Teddy, or _Lysander Scamander._ From what I've heard, you've been more than friends recently. I heard you've had a good few _dates._"

"Oh, crap!" My hands flash to my face, fingers press against the side of my nose and temples. "Oh, crap! Crap!"

"Albus…"

"I've cheated, Scorpius. Me! A cheater!"

"Albus!

"What have I done? Oh my God, what have I done?"

"Al! Listen to me!"

I blink. "What?"

Ever so gently, he removes my hands from my head and holds them down by my side, twining our fingers together. His voice is as soft as his touch. "I'll make sure no one finds out – I'm not going to let this hurt you. Just tell me this: do you love him?"

"Yeah." My answer is too quick, too mechanical.

"Tell me the truth, Al. Do you love him?"

"Oh, I don't know…"

Suddenly, we're kissing. His move, not mine. I succumb for a moment, it makes everything melt away before I realise how it would only cause more trouble, how _Scorpius _would only cause more trouble, so I pull back.

"That's it. I'm leaving."

"Fine, I'm not stopping you." It only takes a few paces and he's got the door handle, as if he's a gentleman. He had seemed like he was being nice for a moment, actually concerned about my feelings, but obviously not. "I'll see you later, Sweetheart. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Our chests brush as I slide past him out of the flat. I look back. He stands there, leaning against the doorframe, and the smile that welcomed me when I first woke still shines on – that stupid smile on that stupid face. With one last glare from me, he begins to swing the door shut. A soft click signals the final closure of a barrier between us.

For a moment I just stand there, my jumper held clumsily in my crossed arms. That's when I hear the soft bump from back inside his flat. A slow step forward brings me close enough to press my ear against the wooden break in the wall.

I can hear him breathing.

He's leaning against the door again, but right now I'm sure he would look a little different than he did a few moments ago. In my mind I see him, forehead creased as it rests the other side from where my ear is, a sense of regret replacing his arrogance. There must be something he wishes he'd said, so I linger where I shouldn't, waiting for his muffled voice to come to me. It's inevitable.

Finally, just as I begin to lose hope, I hear it. Barely audible, but there all the same.

"'I'm fine'? Yeah, I wish. Stop kidding yourself, Malfoy."

Then his retreating footsteps.

I'm too angry to return home for a couple of hours, but when I do there's an owl waiting for me. A beautiful barn owl with a snow white chest and creamy wings dotted with flecks of black perched on my doorstep. She's _his _owl, the bird that once sent a spark of happiness through me because it meant a message from him, but, right now, it just sends a pain through my gut.

"Hey, Flick," I whisper on approach. "Why'd he send you? Reckon he wanted to apologise?" _No, it can't be that, it's too polite. Not that Scorpius bloody Malfoy has ever apologised for anything in his sodding life anyway. Why would he start now?_

The owl's head tilts to one side, golden eyes filled with curiosity. She offers up her leg and I bend down to gently untie the long roll of delicate parchment from her ankle. As always, she gives me a little nip which, of course, I know means she wants a treat. She normally does and, seeing as she could have been standing in the cold for ages now, I think she deserves it. Luckily the remains of some kind of pastry are buried in my pocket from a Weasly family gathering a few days ago – Lucy is still young and seems to have acquired the curious habit of hiding her food – so I throw it high into the air for Flick to catch. She does, spreading her wings and soaring away in a matter of seconds. I watch her go until she's a tiny speck before sitting on the step where she had been, not bothering about the chill biting at my fingers as I unravel my letter. It reads:

_Al,_

_Do you remember your seventeenth birthday?_

_For the whole week I had been more excited than you – probably because James got to see your mum and dad on his seventeenth but you wouldn't be able to, with it being April and term time. Even though they would contact you, I still felt like I needed to make your day special. You were coming of age, after all, and there was something I had wanted to do for a long time (not _that _by the way, though the thought had crossed my mind). It seemed like the right day to make it memorable._

_The night before, we went to bed relatively early. I made sure of it for I was going to wake you, but some form of sleep would be needed so you weren't as grouchy. If I was lucky, you wouldn't rip my head off._

_At four minutes to midnight, I crept over to your bed, sat on the edge, and tapped your knee until you stirred. As soon as you did, I ordered for you to open your eyes._

_"But I don't want to," you whined, voice muffled by the pillow you buried your face into._

_Without a reply, I resumed tapping. Soon you got pissed off so stretched your arms and crunched up your eyes. That was the first time I noticed that they crumpled around the edges. It made me chuckle._

_When you did look at me, I jut smiled that smile only you ever get and handed over a very poorly wrapped present._

_Taking it upon reflex, you muttered, "It's the middle of the bloody night, Scor, what the hell are you doing?"_

_"Being nice."_

_You raised an eyebrow at me. It's always made me jealous that you can do that yet I, the infamous master of sarcasm, cannot. "No, _this_ is not nice. Do you want me to wake you up at an indecent time of the night before _your_ important History of Magic test?"_

_"You have a test on your birthday?" _

_"Yeah, but that's not the point."_

_"But it is the point, isn't it?"_

_"Not really, no."_

_"I was wondering why you've been less than enthusiastic about your birthday all week and now I know it's because of that has-been of a teacher. I've never liked him."_

_"Scor-"_

_"And now my sweet little gesture has been ruined because of your foul mood. Why do I even bother?"_

_I didn't notice that you rested your hand on top of mine. "What is the matter with you? Something's wrong."_

_You of all people know how stroppy I can get. I played it up then, leaping to my feet, grabbing the gift out of your hands and storming back into my own bed. I was being rather loud. Luckily, our housemates weren't going to be awakened – Aiden was still out shagging his girlfriend, Declan had probably drifted off in the common room over a potions book and Frank slept like a log – so we didn't cause much of a disturbance. "No. Nothing's wrong. I just thought I'd be nice for once, but obviously that's not what you want. Good night, Albus."_

That_ got you out of bed. Softly, you padded over to me and we had reversed the positions held a few moments before. Even though I glared when you brushed the hair from my face, you're voice was soft. "Oh… I'm sorry. What was it you planned?"_

_"Nope. Not happening."_

_"Please?"_

_"Nah-ah."_

_From my bedside table, the muggle clock you got me for Christmas began to beep to alert me it was midnight. Very slowly, my scowl faded back to a grin and my recent thoughts not to go through with my gesture vanished. "It's your birthday."_

_I have to say, you looked very confused. That's not like you, and I became confused for a moment too. "Yes, you're point is…"_

_"Happy birthday." You looked down at the gift I placed into your lap._

_That eyebrow quirked again but a smile slowly began to tug at the corners of your lips. Like a child, you ripped off the previous day's _Prophet_ that I had used as wrapping paper to reveal… socks. "Let me get this straight," – I scoffed, though it was still a couple of weeks before you got me to explain why – "you woke me up at this un-Godly hour just to give me a pair of socks?"_

_It didn't bother me that you didn't appear entirely grateful; after all, you did buy my lovely Flick when I turned seventeen and convinced Father to take back that crummy old owl so I wasn't expecting a great sense of gratitude. "What? They're cool socks! Look, they have Cornish Pixies on… Nah, I just wanted to be the first person to say 'happy birthday' to you, and mine to be the first present you opened."_

_I laughed as you blushed. Granted, it got me a smack on the shoulder, but I couldn't help but chuckle. You were just so damn cute. "Don't you worry," I continued, "I got you something else too."_

_Even in the dark, I could see your eyes brighten and dart around, trying to look for this hidden item, but you tried to appear composed. "Really?"_

_"Yep, under your pillow."_

_In a flash, you were back to your possessions, snatching up the envelope that I had planted earlier in the day. On it I had simply written 'meet me outside the Great Hall before dinner.'_

_There was a rustle as you replaced the note back where you found it. I could hear a smile in your voice as you spoke. "Okay."_

_"Good. It's a date."_

_"It's a _what_?" You run back over but I had already pulled the covers up to my chin, lolled me head to one side and shut my eyes – I'm very convincing at acting asleep. Of course, you began to shake my shoulder asking "what do you mean?" even though I was never going to give you an answer._

_I avoided you for the whole day. I know, it made you feel like crap, but I hope I made up for it. Part of me wanted to give up, hug you and apologise. Part of me even wanted to tell you to forget about the whole 'date' thing if you wanted, but I managed to hold fast, even when I saw the disappointment on your face when the Potter family owl didn't turn up at breakfast. By the time I was meant to meet you, I had become convinced you weren't going to show up. There was a picture implanted in my mind of you stopping by the doors a few steps from me. I would reach out… just as you walked away. I was sure…_

_A hand on my shoulder startled me. I whipped around to find myself mere inches from your beaming face. Got to admit, a huge rush of relief flooded my body._

_There was a sparkle in your bright eyes. "So, what are we going to do?"_

_I didn't say anything, instead slipping my hand into yours so I could pull you out of the castle. At first you seemed shocked – by the hand-holding or the direction we headed, I do not know – but you soon began to calm down, laugh even, as we flew away from everything else._

_It wasn't long before we reached the Quidditch pitch. You protested in some way but I didn't really hear, though I guess it was something along the lines of "we're not meant to be here, Scor," or "what the hell are you up to?"_

_I guess it was when we stood there in the middle of the pitch that you stopped muttering._

_"A picnic, Scor?" An apple found itself bouncing from your hand into the air and back again after you'd bent down to check out my incredibly cute hamper and plaid blanket. "How cliché…"_

_With the thought that maybe you disapproved, I dropped your hand and felt my posture sag. "Oh…"_

_"I love it!" The hug you gave me then restricted my breathing some what. "You got all my favourite foods! Chicken nuggets, chip butties…"_

_"And," a voice called from a few metres behind you, right on cue, "homemade cake."_

_Just like in those terribly cheesy muggle films with slow motion running, you ran off to your mum and dad who I had thoughtfully organised to come and see you on your birthday. As hard as I tried, I couldn't help but smile at the look on your face as you hugged them. Slowly though, I backed away to where I had conveniently placed my broom hoping not to be noticed. Unfortunately…_

_"Where do you think you're running off to so fast?" Mr Potter broke away from your little gathering to talk to me. Truth be told, I almost crapped my pants. Here was the Boy Who Lived, famous Auror and protective father standing in front of a fellow of my bloodline with a pretty stern look on his face. Mentally I began to prepare for my imminent death. _

_Obviously the correct reaction was to start mumbling about leaving you for family time, not wanting to invade, and, if I can remember rightly, that I had to check on my small collection of cacti – apparently they needed urgent watering. All the while, my eyes were locked firmly on my very interesting feet._

_Harry (you don't mind me calling him Harry, do you?) just laughed. Laughing was an improvement on pent-up Malfoy hatred. My face must have been a picture, especially when your dad threw an arm around my shoulder and led us further from you and your mum. "I thought I could have a little word with you. Is that okay?"_

_"Yep, yep. That's fine, completely fine. Let me just… um, yeah…" Managed to keep my cool, clearly. I honestly don't know what it is about your dad that makes me lose my nerve so much._

_"Great. Now, I'm going to be completely honest with you and I want you to be the same with me. Got it?" Seeing as I thought he was being rhetorical, a few awkward moments passed before I nodded and he continued. "I love my son, and you do to. No, don't give me that look, I _know_ you do. Its nothing against you personally, I just never saw Albus with a…"_

_"Boy?" I snapped. As scared as I was of him, the thought that maybe Harry wouldn't even let me try and get you really ticked me off. "A Malfoy? You've got to be thinking of one of those two _flaws_ that I have. To start with, if you really love your son that much then you need to let him be with he wants to be with. Not saying that will be me, but if it _is _a boy he wants to be with then what bloody difference does it make? Love's love, right? If it is me, then I'll have you know I am _not _my father. Or my grandfather or any other bastard in my family. If you want to apply any hatred you have for them to me then I don't give a damn, just you need to give me a chance. There, that honest enough for you?"_

_"Scorpius," he laughed shakily, just like you do when you're nervous, "I was going to say _blonde._"_

_"Oh crap!" With the shock of the error I had made, my hand leapt to my mouth. "Crap! My apologies, Mr Potter! I honestly didn't mean to offend you, or swear, or…"_

_The best three words I have ever heard were said by your father then: _don't mention it._ He might have clapped a hand on my shoulder, but it felt like a huge weight had lifted off them. I laughed, he laughed, and I decided that I really like your dad!_

_With my little outburst forgotten, our conversation continued. "Anyway, I may never have seen my son with a blonde, which is a joke by the way, but I hope you don't give up on my Albus."_

_"Why not, sir?"_

_"Why not? Because he deserves someone like you. After all this nonsense between me and your dad, I don't think any other Malfoy would have been able to pluck up the courage to contact me personally just to make Albus happy. Thank you." Another awkward silence. I took the time to glance over to you – you were happily munching away and talking with Ginny – and Harry noticed as he followed my gaze. "He feels the same about you, you know. All this I've been saying about family conflict, it works both ways. Albus wrote to your father too, remember?"_

_That thought made my day. It's easy to forget you had to talk to Father to get me Flick. "I never thought about it like that…"_

_"All I'm trying to say is, don't give up. If you and him aren't together before you leave Hogwarts, I will be very disappointed, young man. You need to help him be who he really is." With a grin, he stuck out his hand for me to shake, which I did and then found myself in a surprising hug._

_I remember thinking, _If only Father could see me now.

_Back to normal, Harry looked down at the broom I still held and we started to chat about Quidditch until he finally asked "Where are you planning on going with that anyway?"_

_"Oh, not far. I like to sit up on the posts from time to time – took me ages to find the right way to sit without falling! I'll wait until you need to leave and then get back to the castle with Albus."_

_"Well, that is very thoughtful. It was nice to finally meet you, Scorpius. If I don't see you again for a time, remember what I said." One wicked green eye winked at me. It took a few more smiles until we pottered off in different directions – Harry back to you, and me hopping onto my broom._

_The tallest goal post has always been my favourite. Sat up there, legs either side and leaning against the hoop with the broom hovering beside me, it was easy for me to lose myself and simply contemplate everything. People are wiser the higher up they are, don't you know – makes your head clearer and your view of the world broader. So I watched from my spot as you enjoyed yourself and thought of everything that happened. You, and us, and what could happen now I had spoken to your dad. I was content and let my eyes drift shut as ideas of more gestures to get you darted around my head._

_Your shout brought me back to reality an hour later. "Hey! Scor! Mum and Dad are leaving; they say its getting dark so we should be heading back to the castle. Its quite lonely here by myself… Feel like coming down any time soon and keeping me company?"_

_With a wave to your parents as they were leaving, I yelled back, "Not just yet, it's rather nice up here actually." To add effect, I folded my arms behind my head._

_Even from my great height, your sigh was audible. "Oh, really? Not cold? 'Cause I'm freezing my bollocks off down here."  
"If it really bothers you that much, come up here." My eyes remained clamped shut._

_Presumably you used the spell most favoured by the lazy – though I admit _Accio _can be quite handy – to summon down my broom. A few moments later and the post trembled beneath me as you clambered on. There are no words to express how shocked I was to feel you leaning back against me, sat between my legs, temple resting against my cheek. You squirmed a little, trying to get comfy but being rather the opposite for me until you settled down and allowed me to rest my chin on your shoulder. Automatically me arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer._

_"Warmer now?"_

_"Yes, thank you."_

_But you weren't; I could feel you shivering. There wasn't much I could do, but I did magically create a small flame to hover in front of you hoping it would give off a bit more warmth (and a some light as the sun set). For some reason, you've always loved it when I use that spell – once you mentioned it was because the little lights remind you of a story involving your father, aunt and uncle in a tent and then scolded me for jumping to a filthy conclusion. Apparently it didn't really involve your dad and was in fact much more romantic. The idea of making something so pathetic romantic was beyond me but I was determined to make it so._

_A picture sprang to mind so I created another flame. This one was blue, the same shade as the eyes I inherited from my mother, and I altered the other one to burn green. We watched as they danced, twirling together in the air, though you became more interesting so I watched you instead. It was rather awkward, trying to look at you sideways but still you managed to catch me staring and grinned, forcing me to look away in embarrassment._

_You grinned, decided to hold my hands and began to talk quietly. "What were you talking about with my dad?"  
"You."_

_"Yeah, that much was obvious." Rather distractingly, you began to gently stroke the back of my hand with your thumb._

_"What is it that you want to know then?" Between the rambling, outburst and fluffy nonsense I didn't especially want to tell you. After my question, I began to pray you wouldn't push for me to tell you._

_"Oh, nothing." It was clear you knew I would have to tell you at some point but I didn't… At least not until now. I wonder what you think now that I have told you, considering everything that's happened since then._

_We sat in comfortable silence for a while, but then you began to fidget again. Rather awkwardly, you managed to find a position where you were still leaning against me but could twist your head around enough to look me in the eye. "Thank you."_

_"For what?"_

_"For sorting this out, for being you. For everything."_

_We smiled at each other and then, very slowly, you leant in kissed me. Only on the cheek but still, it gave me hope more than anything had. In a small state of surprise and blinding optimism, I only watched as you climbed back onto the broom with a mischievous grin and flew off, leaving me stranded with your dad's words repeating over and over in my head._

Don't give up… _I'm glad I didn't._

Once I've read it a second, and then a third time, I turn the paper over in my hands. What I didn't notice before was a message scrawled on there, and slashed out.

_I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. I just needed to see you. You mean more to me than you think. _

* * *

**So... Hi again! Feel free to leave a review/favourite/follow (but don't get your hopes up). I would especially like to know if you would like me to continue the story in the future (with shorter chapters). I promise appearances from Teddy, James, Lysander, Harry and Draco! Eh? Eh?**

**Till next time, adios amigos!**


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